Immersion

himher

My eyes were only for her, and so was my lense.
Every chance I got was spent hiding behind a tree, or in the back of a group of people. Sometimes even out in the open. I had an electronic device for a face just so she couldn't catch a glance at the photographer.
She didn't even know she was being photographed.

She didn't know that her beautiful face; her flairing brown strands, her pale skin, her opulent scarlet lips, and her shattering blue eyes-
she didn't know that she was filling up roll after roll.
Shot after shot.

I chose to keep physical proof instead of mental memoirs.
Anyone could simply remember a person.
Recall their individuality.
Guess at their complexion.

A mind is something that can't be trusted to hold such treasures, so I took shot after shot of a girl that was too stunning to be merely thought of. It was getting to the point where I couldn't even function anymore. Time passed made me become more desperate; more climacteric.

I had to compensate for the polaroids.
I had to have something more real than a transparency.
I had to be able to touch and hold and embrace the very thing I had obsessed over.

I had to have her.

ft. Tom Sykes